The Painting
by Kali Ravel
Summary: She'd leapt once. Now, she'd have to walk.
1. The First Week

**A/N** – please be aware that I'm only familiar with the film.

**The First Week**

Makoto had told Kousuke that her plans for the future were a secret – but she'd never been much good at keeping secrets. If it wasn't something important, that she hugged tight to her heart, then, sooner or later, she'd get distracted and blurt it out without thinking.

In the end though, it wasn't that tendency that gave her away.

It was only a week or so since Chiaki had left. Kousuke had been hurt that his friend had left without saying goodbye, but since that one conversation on the field, he and Makoto hadn't spoken about it. They'd barely spoken at all. They'd met again, the next day, to play baseball on the field, but Kaho and those two friends of hers had been there. Makoto hadn't seemed to want to discuss it either. She seemed...distracted. She seemed lost in thought constantly now. Kousuke didn't push her to talk; he wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Chiaki leaving, and thought it might be better to let her deal with it herself.

That night, he'd walked Kaho home. It wasn't entirely his own idea. Makoto had left halfway through their game, running off suddenly to god only knew where, and Kaho's friends had abandoned her. She'd looked so small and sad standing there all alone – he didn't have the heart to let her walk all that way by herself. Still, he wondered where Makoto had disappeared to.

*

Makoto had spent the time since Chiaki's disappearance wondering about how she could possibly make this work out. Her auntie Witch believed she could, and Makoto felt that she must. So she would. Somehow.

She'd spoken to Auntie Witch that first day, after baseball. Told her the whole story.

"I don't know what to do!" she'd wailed. Auntie Witch had smiled at her. That strange soft smile she got sometimes.

"You'll figure it out, Makoto." She'd said. Makoto didn't feel particularly grateful for that advice.

She'd been musing on the problem again, when she was supposed to be concentrating on fielding. Kaho had been batting, and Makoto knew there was little chance of the ball coming anywhere near her part of the field.

She didn't even know where to start. He was in the future, and she was here. Could she go there? How? Look for another of those little walnut things? There was no chance of doing that. Wait for someone to invent them? She didn't know how far Chiaki had come from, but she didn't think it was within her lifetime. And even if it was, it would have to be far, far in the future. She'd be old before then.

She didn't want to grow old before she saw him again.

Maybe she should learn about time. Maybe that would be a start.

As Makoto did with most of her thoughts, she acted on this one immediately. Waving goodbye to Kousuke, she ran across the field to grab her bag, then kept running, in the direction of the library. She could get there before it closed if she hurried.

*

Makoto wasn't used to being in the library by herself. Usually, Kousuke would be there, studying. He didn't mind being alone, but sometimes he'd dragged her along, making sure her marks weren't get any worse than they already were. Over the last few months, Chiaki had come along too, and neither of them had gotten anything done.

Makoto wasn't stupid, she knew she wasn't. She just didn't always pay attention. There was always something more interesting going on. She'd admired Kousuke's concentration, much as she admired his volunteer work, but she never put the effort in to emulate it. It just didn't seem important. Her memory was pretty good, and that had generally helped her to scrape through.

Since she normally relied on Kousuke to help her to study, she wasn't entirely sure where to start looking. Science, maybe? But where was the science section? She was quite embarrassed to realised that she had only a vague idea.

She did find the right section. It didn't even take her as long as she'd thought. But, when she saw the books there, she almost lost heart again. They were so thick! And the words were so long!

Groaning, she picked out a few that looked promising and carried them over to a table. After a few minutes of flicking through them, she got back up and fetched a dictionary.

*

Kousuke caught Makoto just after his weekly meeting with his volunteer group. He'd run back to fetch something he'd forgotten, and ran into her – almost literally – as she walked out of a classroom.

"Hey, Makoto, what're you still doing at school?"

"Ah – Kousuke!" Her hand went to the back of her neck, like she did whenever she got embarrassed. "I was – ah -"

Peering past her through the open doorway, he saw their teacher sitting at his desk. "Did you finally choose?"

She walked off down the hallway, answering over her shoulder. "Let's go play baseball! It's still light out!"

"Makoto! What'd you choose?"

They fell into step as he caught up with her.

"Science." She said. "Physics."

"_Physics?"_

She glared up at him. "Something wrong with that?"

"Makoto, you're terrible at science!"

She stuck her nose in the air, huffily. "That's only because I don't concentrate!"

*

Home, finally, Chiaki stared up at the ceiling. He thought about her. He tried to think about nothing.

The painting. He'd never seen it, and now he wasn't sure if he ever would.

"I'm sorry, Yasuo."


	2. Leap

**A/N** – again, only familiar with the animated film.

**Leap**

_He stood on the edge of the rooftop, his head flung back and his eyes spread wide. Chiaki didn't see him till he reached the top of the stairs, worn out from running so far. Yasuo was silhouetted against the morning sunrise, his shadow reaching almost to Chiaki's feet._

"_Yasuo!"_

_Chiaki ran, feeling as if he were in slow motion. He never had a chance of catching the older boy. Yasuo leapt into the air, seeming to hang there for a minute before starting to fall._

_Chiako crashed into the wall that Yasuo had been standing on, leaning over, trying to spot him as he fell. He couldn't see anything._

_He was still young enough to cry then, though later, he would be glad that no one had seen him. He sobbed, the kind of choking wails that leave one gasping for breath._

_He knew why Yasuo had chosen this roof to leap from. This building was one of the few skyscrapers left in the city, the others reduced to rubble, or merely shells of their former selves. Even this one had required them both to walk up the stairs, rather than use the long abandoned elevators – and the stairs weren't the most trustworthy, nearly a quarter of them threatening to give out and send either of them plunging to their deaths before they'd reached the top._

_Yasuo had chosen this one because it was the tallest. He'd wanted to make sure._

_And now, Chiaki was alone._


	3. The First Year

**A/n** – Again, I'm only familiar with the animated film. I'm also not fully familiar with the Japanese school system – if there are any glaring errors, please tell me.

**The First Year**

Makoto had never studied this hard, this continuously before. She'd never thought she'd be a straight A student, but here she was, almost every evening, in the library with Kousuke. He was pre-med, so their courses didn't entirely overlap, but at this early stage there were enough similarities that they could help each other out – or rather, that he could help her.

Makoto had taken pride in her marks in the past, but she'd never felt as personally invested as she did now. She'd gone to school because that was what everyone did, and worked because, a lot of the time, it was easier than avoiding it. Now, it was something she wanted to do, and though it wasn't always easy, she managed to stay motivated. More than anything, she felt driven.

Kousuke was both impressed and worried by the change in Makato. She'd lost some of her joie de vivre, and though he'd often told her that she should study more, and get up earlier, and be more like him, now that it had actually happened, he wasn't entirely certain that he liked it.

They were nearing the end of their first year of college when they saw him. They were walking together, across campus. They'd taken the evening off from studying, planning to go back to the baseball field. They hadn't been there in several weeks, preparing for the end of year exams, and they both felt unhealthy, after sitting indoors, cramped up under desks for days.

"Maybe we should ask – hey, Makoto? Makoto where are you going?"

She'd suddenly darted away from him.

"Chiaki! Hey, Chiaki!"

Kousuke followed her gaze. "Hey, that _does_ look like Chiaki," he muttered to himself. He started running too. "Makoto! Wait up!"


	4. The Past

**The Past**

Chiaki walked around the silent city. He tried to imagine it filled with people, like all the places he'd seen in the past, and for a minute it even worked. Then he opened his eyes, and it was impossible to ignore the decrepit buildings.

There were some other people around. He could go and find them, if he really wanted to. But they were all so scattered, and there were so few of them anyway, that it would hardly be worth seeking them out. Anyway, he felt like being alone with his thoughts. It is possible to do that in solitude or in a crowd – but not in a small group of people. There was no anonymity in that.

He just wanted to hear someone's voice, and not be required to reply.

He missed Yasuo. He'd been twelve or so then, when Yasuo had leapt from the roof. Yasuo had been older, seventeen or eighteen. It was getting harder and harder to remember, these days. Maybe if he looked at the newspaper clippings again. After all, there was little else there for him now. Nothing but reliving the past.


	5. Other People's Faces

**A/N **– sorry for the long absence; my computer broke down. I'm back now, and hoping to update at least once a week. We can't let Tokikake die.:(

**Other People's Faces**

"Chiaki!"

Makoto caught her breath as the tall redhead turned around. For a second, she still believed it was Chiaki – then she blinked, and it was someone else entirely.

Kousuke came up beside her.

The stranger raised an eyebrow at both of them.

"I'm sorry," Kousuke said. "You look like someone we know."

The stranger laughed, hands on his hips. Although his hair was the same as Chiaki's, he was broader in the shoulders, and his laugh seemed to fill his entire body, booming out. He looked like someone who wrestled bears for fun. Even from behind, it seemed impossible that they'd mistaken him for Chiaki. He held out his hand for Kousuke to shake, then turned to Makoto and made the same gesture. Still staring at his face, she gave him her hand.

"I'm Ash," he said, grinning widely. "And you've just made a new friend!"

*

It took Chiaki longer than it should have to get his act together and go check the newspaper archives. It wasn't like he had much else to do.

*

That wasn't the first time Makato had done that. These days, she kept seeing Chiaki everywhere, even in other people's faces.

*

Although Ash had no classes in common with either of them – he focused on Art History - Kousuke and Makato saw a lot of him after that. On the baseball field, as well as at karaoke, his enthusiasm made up for what he lacked in skill.

In everything he did, he was larger than life. When he studied, he became absorbed in the text, frowning over the reading glasses he wore, and ignoring, seeming not to even hear, remarks from Kousuke and Makato. When they went out to eat, or when either of them invited him home for dinner, he'd eat twice as much as anyone else, always so happy and complimentary to the chef that no one minded. At karaoke, he'd sing loudly and out of tune, leaving himself croaking through the next day. At the gym – which he encouraged Kousuke to accompany him to, once – he'd show off, doing push ups one handed, before embracing the weights. On the baseball field, he'd wear himself out, running from place to place while never managed to catch a single ball. Even when batting, he'd swing hard, usually too fast, and miss entirely.

When he talked, he talked loudly and constantly, scarcely letting either Makato or Kousuke get a word in edgeways. They learned a lot about him – that he was an exchange student from Europe, who'd left his family to come here and study.

"Still, it's only really my little brother who'd miss me," he said. "Poor little tyke – god only knows how he'll manage without me."

"Are you close?" Makato asked.

"Oh yeah. Me and my brother, we do everything together."

"Why come here to study?" Kousuke asked, at the same time as Makato said "So why'd you leave him?"

Ash stopped walking as he laughed. He always did that, as if his laugh was so all encompassing that he simply couldn't do anything else at the same time.

"You guys have some great artwork that's pretty much ignored back home," he said, answering Kousuke's question. "When this chance came up, to come here and study, I just couldn't pass it up."

Kousuke and Makato had been surprised, at first, that someone as big and clumsy as Ash would want to study art. But, after spending time with him, it had become clear to them both that beauty truly was his first love. Sometimes, when they were walking, he'd just stop, and stare at something. A butterfly, or a flower, or even something manmade, like a train, or an unusual building. Sometimes, he'd just want to go somewhere busy, to stop and stare at people. The books he read, while Makato and Kousuke fought their way through scientific texts, were biographies of famous artists, or sometimes just pictures of the places where they'd lived. When Kousuke asked him about it, he'd tried to explain. He wanted to immerse himself in these lives, he said, trace the paintings back through the artists to find out where they'd come from. He didn't put it quite like that, of course. Ash lacked articulacy as he did finesse, but his sheer enthusiasm and love of beauty came through, and explained him where his words couldn't.


	6. Auld Lang Syne

**A/n** – I made up the names I couldn't find in canon – if they do exist somewhere, let me know and I'll edit.

**Auld Lang Syne**

Finally, Chiaki found himself in the library. He'd had to go into the more built-up part of town to reach it, through several scanners set to read iris scans and the microchip which lay on the back of his neck. To have access to the full archives, he'd have needed a military or government chip. Still, he saw no reason for the newspapers he wanted to be hidden. They were just local news stories from years ago.

The files stretched as far as the eye could see. Each newspaper was held on a microdisc no bigger than an inch across, but there were millions of them here.

Chiaki found the right area, then the cabinet containing the right decade. He keyed in the search terms -Makato Konno, Kousuke Tsuda. And the name of the painting - A Picture of White Plum and Camellia and Chrysanthemum.

That wasn't the original name of the painting, of course. No one knew what the artist had called it. It had been found in Japan, in the remains of a school that had been occupied by children sent from Germany during the Second World War.

The day after he'd seen Yasuo leap from the building, he's found a clipping, a printout from one of these files. He'd found it among Yasuo's things, left out as if he'd meant for him to find it.

The clipping had described the discovery of the painting, and the exhibition it was due to be part of. He'd determined to see it. Time travel was prohibited within recent time – allowing people to return to yesterday, or last year, or even fifty years before would put too much at risk. He'd have to go further. Well, this was far enough. And it was the only link he had to Yasuo, his brother.

He'd filled out all the necessary forms, struggling with the longer words, and the complicated question they asked. The government official he met with told him to come back in a few years. Children couldn't be trusted to leap, to conduct themselves properly in another time.

So, he'd gone back, the next year, and the next. It had taken five years before they'd finally given him permission. And then, unpractised as he was, he'd leapt a few months too far. And, with all that had happened, he'd never seen the painting.

That was okay; he had something else to hope for now. He'd lost Yasuo, but he'd found Kousuke and Makato. And surely one of them would be able to find a way for her to reach him?


	7. Art History

**Art History**

One day, Makoto introduced Ash to Auntie Witch. Kousuke had a class at the time, but Makoto and Ash had a few hours free.

"Something on my face?" He asked, when, ignoring his outstretched hand, Auntie Witch simply gazed at him. She shook her head, startled, then shook his hand. Stepping back afterwards, she looked down and smiled her mysterious smile.

"He's an exchange student from Germany, Auntie Witch," Makato said, when the other two remained silent. "I thought that, you know, he might want to talk to you, since he's learning about art."

From then on, the day seemed normal. Auntie Witch and Ash discussed art, while Makoto ate pudding and rested. Eventually she looked at her watch.

"Ohhh! I have to go, Auntie Witch, I'll be late! Come on, Ash!"

"Ash, you're not in that class, are you?"

"No, ma'am, I've got the afternoon free today. Why'd you ask?"

"Makoto, why don't I take Ash to the museum while you go back to school?"

Almost dancing in her haste to leave, Makato nodded. "I'll see you later Ash! Have fun!"

That afternoon was the first time Ash saw the painting. The next day, he was gone.


	8. The Future

**The Future**

Makato finally passed her degree with a first, surprising no one but herself. People had been surprised at the change in her, over the last few years. Kousuke, her sister and her parents had tried to talk to her about it several times, but she always seemed to be too busy. Or too unnapproachable. Or too far away, even when she was standing right there.

Kousuke went on to an internship, as Makoto continued her masters. Then he became a physician as she worked on her doctorate. She worked on a number of research products, all to do with time travel, the essence of time...anything she could find in the right field. First as a research student, then as a proper scientist with funding and ideas of her own.

None of them ever worked.

She had a few relationships, losing her virginity to someone entirely unmemorable when carting it around became too much of a burden.

On the day she was given her doctorate, she went straight home. Looking into the mirror, she despaired.

She still remembered Chiaki as the seventeen-year-old he would always be, waiting for her, somewhere she simply couldn't reach. With all her work and research, and the life she'd given up, she still couldn't do it. Her face in the mirror was worn now, wrinkled from age and concentration. She wasn't old, as such, not from the perspective of someone her own age. But, looking from the memory of her teenage self she was a crone, aged and decayed.

She called Kousuke, only to find – as she'd already known, but forgotten – that he was on call, and couldn't be reached. Kousuke worked at a hospital now, saving lives every night. Makoto wondered, if she'd told him the truth, whether he could have saved hers.


	9. Microdiscs

**Microdiscs**

Chiaki took the relevant microdiscs over to the viewer, picking one at random to look at first. It was a small article about Kousuke's father. Chiaki flipped ahead to the next one, information on an event organised by Kousuke and Makoto's class during their first year at university. There was a picture and, looking closely, he could just see them in the background. Makoto's back was to him, and he wished he could see her face.

He found an article announcing Kousuke's starting work at a local hospital. Chiaki was surprised at the age difference. He shouldn't have been – he knew that time would have moved on while he leapt back. But still, to him, it had barely been two weeks since he'd seen Makoto and Kousuke.

Soon, he came to the important microdisc. It was dated only two years after his disappearance, and announced Makoto's suspected murder. Ash Brandt was wanted in connection with the crime, and Chiaki broke out in a cold sweat when he saw the picture of him.


	10. Jigsaw Pieces

**Jigsaw Pieces**

After Makoto's disappearance, Kousuke began losing interest in medicine. He was twenty-three now, nearly twenty-four, and previously, he'd been intending to intern in medicine and become a doctor. That goal seemed less important now, which was an odd experience for Kousuke. He'd never been without a goal before, but then, he'd never lost his most important friends before either.

Chiaki, gone. Makato missing, presumed dead. Ash wanted for her murder.

Kousuke wanted a change, something new. He didn't know what it was, yet.

His father, seeing this, offered him a chance to join a research group in Europe. A friend of his, someone he'd known at university, was setting it up. Kousuke leapt at the chance to leave, to start afresh.

So, he didn't become a doctor. Makato didn't become a physicist and grow old.

Working with other young students from all over the world, Kousuke helped to invent something.


	11. Darker than you Think

**Darker than you Think**

"Hey, Makato!"

A hand grabbed at her elbow from the darkness. She gasped. "Ash?!"

It had been years since she'd last seen him, since he'd disappeared. Still, he looked older than he should have. He was unshaven, and his eyes looked bloodshot.

He told her something, and asked her to follow him. She was shocked at first, but with her experiences, there was never any question of not believing him. She went with him.

Kousuke saw them leave.


	12. Rivalry

**Rivalry**

Chiaki didn't know how he found his way home, after seeing that picture. It was a good thing his feet knew the way back, because his mind was currently unreachable.

He couldn't believe that Makoto was dead. He'd known that, as far from her as he was, she must be, but he couldn't believe that she'd been so young. Maybe that was why it had taken him weeks instead of hours to see what he could find the newspapers – he didn't want to hear of her death.

More to the point, he couldn't believe that Ash – that _Yasuo_ – had been there, let alone been involved. There must be some misunderstanding.

More to the point, if he'd only been a few months later, he could have seen the painting and his brother.

*

Kousuke never saw Makato again, after that day. When the police came to him for a statement, he told them what he'd seen, and the hunt was on for Ash Brandt. It took only a few weeks for the case to turn from a missing person to a suspected murder.


	13. Show me the way to go home

**Show me the way to go home**

Once home, Chiaki looked through his brother's things again. They'd been locked in the cupboard for years before then, kept as a shrine to Yasuo's memory, but now he needed to see them.

He couldn't recall ever seeing the map before.

*

It was two months after Makato's disappearance.

There was a place on the university roof where students sometimes went when they needed to think. Ash was there now, waiting.

He didn't turn around when Kousuke appeared. "Hey."

"_You!"_

Ash turned then. "Yes, me. Kousuke -"

"Where's Makato?! What did you do with her?!"

"Kousuke -" Ash stood on the wall at the edge of the rooftop. "Kousuke, I'm sorry. It- it all works out. Really, it does. Trust me."

He was pleading. As Kousuke stared in anger, Ash let himself fall backwards, with a final "I'm sorry..."

Kousuke ran to the edge of the rooftop and looked over, but there was nothing on the pavement below.


	14. The End

**A/n –** I'm sorry for the long delay. I couldn't quite work out Ash's time leaps for where and when he needed to be. Maybe they're still not quite perfect, but I figured it would be better to finish it and work it out later than to leave the story in limbo forever.

**The End**

Chiaki followed the map. It led far out of the city, to a place no one ever went. There he found a coffin-like object, beset with dials and wires. He turned one, and the lid began to creak open.

Inside, Makato began to wake up. She'd been asleep for a long time.

Kousuke had worked on this, a machine that could keep someone held in suspended animation for a long time. Ash had brought her to it.

Removing oneself from the present was one way to travel through time.

*

Back in the 1940s, Ash was a schoolteacher. He taught art, and painted in his free time. He died when the school was bombed.


End file.
